Healing the Broken
by BacktraF
Summary: Arthur, a British soldier, and Alfred, a 13 year old American boy who is voluntarily mute, meet and help each other heal. Set during the American Revolutionary War. Human AU.
1. Meeting

Chapter 1: Meeting

Arthur travelled quietly with the group of British soldiers who were heading for a small American encampment to begin their attack. The camp was barely visible from where he currently was, giving him a lot of time to think.

He didn't want to come and fight the Yanks, but when asked to join the army to assist , he did not refuse. Refusal could mean jail and he didn't want to go to jail. However, when he did fight, he kept those he killed to a minimum.

He didn't feel that it was right to keep the American citizens from the freedom they so desperately wanted. England should just let go before things get out of hand. Of course, things had already gotten out of hand. The war, he was sure, had long ago gone too far, pushing both sides to their limits. A sigh escaped his lips. He had to kill more Americans today, on this soon to be battlefield.

Sooner than he expected, they were coming up on the small camp, getting ready to attack. They snuck around and tried to keep to the shadows so as to not be seen, but it was too late. One of their soldiers was unlucky enough to catch the eye of the watchman.

"Intruders!" The Yankee yelled as he began to ring a bell.

At that moment, the whole camp was bustling with movement as everyone woke up from their slumber and got ready for a fight.

The leader of the British forces wasn't happy about that so he gave the order to attack. "Fire at will! Send those Yankees to hell!"

The battle that was supposed to be quick and easy turned into a confused frenzy on both sides. Friendly fire was affecting both the Brits and the Yanks as some tried to create order.

As the bombardment slowed down, people began to make more sense of their surroundings. Arthur looked around to see if any troops needed help. Few who were on the ground were alive, but he looked anyway.

Soon he spotted a man struggling to stay awake and clutching at a bullet wound. It was his friend, William.

"William!" Arthur yelled, lifting the dying man in his arms. "Stay with me, please!"

Before he could help him, pain shot through his right shoulder and lower back. He dropped William and fell to his side, trying to focus on his breathing, but finding it extremely difficult. His eyes slowly closed and his breathing slowed down. A tear rolled down his cheek. He didn't want to die like this, but he knew it was his end. Finally darkness took him.

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Alfred ran across the field, enjoying the sun. A smile graced his lips for the first time in a few days. He had been traveling alone for almost two years now.

Before he left his home, British soldiers stormed into his house and murdered his mother and father. Because of that event, he hasn't spoken since then and found few reasons to smile. He was thirteen now and saw the beautiful scene around him.

A movement to his left caught his attention. A small rabbit hopped off when he took a step towards the source. He gave chase to the little creature and his smile grew wider. Soon he lost it, but the smile didn't disappear.

He sat down and took off his pack, setting it next to him and digging through it in search of the fox he had killed earlier. After grabbing the meat from the sack, he made a fire and cooked it. Once it was ready he pulled it from the fire and began his meal. It wasn't a large meal, but it was enjoyable all the same.

He couldn't always catch animals and instead would have to settle for fruit he found on trees or maybe, if he had too, some bugs. He rarely had to resort to the six legged creatures, though. He was glad about that.

The American boy finished his food pretty quickly and put out his fire. Their were few things he had to pack back in his bag so he was on his way quickly. It seemed as though nothing could dampen his spirit that day. That was, of course, until he small smoke rising from a near by field.

Alfred ran through the trees quickly, to find the source of the smoke and came out a few minutes later to find a military camp covered with blood and bodies. Upon closer examination, he found both British and American troops. It looked as though no one had survived the battle. The smile was gone and sadness had once again taken over.

He didn't like the scene before him, but he began to search throughout the wreckage of the battle, looking for food, cloth, and weapons. He found many useful items and stuffed as much as he could in his pack. As his search came to a close a groan from behind him nearly stopped his heart.

Turning around, he saw a British soldier, drawing in quiet, shaky breaths. Slowly approahcing the man, the young boy felt anger rise in his chest. This might not have been one of the men to kill his parents, but he was still an enemy who helped them.

Looking around, Alfred saw a bayonet lying at his feet. He picked it up and turned back to the Brit, lifting the weapon above his head to end his life. Right before he could, however, the man opened his eyes and gazed into his own.

After a few moments of both staring at each other, the soldier spoke, with barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."

The man fell back into a state of unconsiousness and left the American boy to think. His eyes widened when he heard those words. He never thought that a Briton would apologize for anything. The only experience he ever had with them was two years ago, when he lost everything. They seemed like they enjoyed what they were doing, like they lived to do it, but this man acted as though he never wanted to be a part of it.

Alfred dropped the knife-tipped gun and looked at the British man, deciding what to do next. Whatever he chose could change his life forever.

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Oh Gosh, so short! I will definitely try to shoot for longer chapters. 


	2. Trust

Chapter 2: Trust

Arthur's eyes snapped open. A tan cloth was rippling above him as he lay there. Slowly he sat up, but a sharp pain in his back caused him to lay back down. He breathed heavily, readying himself to try again. Gritting his teeth, he heaved himself upward and gasped in pain once he was in a sitting position. He heard birds chirping outside of the makeshift tent and found the sound relaxing. At that moment, he remembered everything that had happened.

Lifting his good arm he tried to look at the wound on his lower back, finding it extremely difficult. He found that a long strip of cloth had been wrapped around his torso to bandage him up. He also just realized that his injured arm was in a sling to keep him from moving it around. He didn't know why he only just saw it, but that didn't matter now.

What mattered now was how he had gotten their and who had helped him. Looking around the tent he saw a small pile of blankets. He reached over to grab the heap of cloth, but before he touched it, something beneath it began to move, causing him to jerk his hand away.

A groan resonated from the pile and a head peaked out of the blankets. The Brit found himself unable to move. He had not expected a boy to be with him. Perhaps he had a father that carried the Briton. There was no way the boy could have done that. Arthur merely shook his head and opened the tent. He crawled out and stood, to his greatest ability. There was no sign of the battlefield. Now he knew that the boy had to have someone to help him.

A wave of pain shot through his back again, and he swayed, trying to regain his balance. Turning back to the tent, he thought that it would probably be better to stay in it until he was better. He moved the flap of the enterance and found the boy sitting up and rubbing at his sleepy eyes.

Once he got a good look at the now awake man, the boy leapt up and knocked the stick holding up his side of the tent. It swayed a bit, but didn't fall over. The kid was obviously afraid of the British man, and made every attempt to keep as far away from him as possible.

"Hey, now, I'm not going to hurt you..." Arthur stated.

This did nothing to sooth the small boy. If anything, it caused him to be more afraid.

"It's okay," the Brit extended his hand slowly.

The boy's breathing slowed as he calmed down and realized that he wasn't going to hurt him.

"Umm, what's your name?" Arthur asked, uncertain of what to say next.

The boy opened his mouth like he was trying to say something, but no noise came out. A blush worked it's way on his face, showing he was embarrassed for not being able to speak. The Brit smiled at the flustered boy.

"That's ok if you can't talk. Can you write?"

A nod came from the boy.

"Okay, can you write you name on the ground?"

With a shaking hand the boy wrote out his name, albeit sloppy, but legible.

"Alfred..." Turning to the boy, Arthur asked, "Your name is Alfred?"

The boy nodded again, and smiled.

"Well then, Alfred, is there anyone with you?"

Alfred shook his head.

"Then... who brought me here... and..." Arthur motioned to the bandages. "who did this?"

Slowly, American boy raised his hand and pointed to himself. The Englishman could only stare in disbelief.

"How...?" That was all he managed to get out before a large wave of pain made him fall to his side and gasp.

Alfred immediatly jumped up and did his best to help the Brit. He could only do so much for the pain, so the Englishman would just have to bare with it. The American felt bad for not being able to do much. He could mostly only watch the man suffer.

After a few minutes of the excruciating pain, it subsided, leaving a panting soldier. A throb still lingered, but it was bearable. Shakily, he sat back up, trying to collect his wits.

"That was not a pleasent experience." Arthur stated, with emphasis to the not. Then, thinking back on to the question he was going to ask before, he spoke again. "So, how did you drag me all the way from the battlefield?"

Alfred crawled out of the tent and Arthur followed close behind. When he stood he saw that the boy wasn't infront of him. Looking around he saw him on the otherside of the makeshift tent. Going around, he found Alfred pointing down the hill they were on. It was then that he saw it.

The battlefield was only right down the slope. He hadn't seen this side of the hill so he assumed that they were far from the site. The Yank hadn't brought him as far as he originally thought.

Arthur turned back to the boy and noticed for the first time that he had circles under his eyes. Confused, he asked, "Are you tired?"

Alfred looked back at the man and nodded.

"Why are you so tired?"

The boy pointed at Arthur.

The Brit was taken aback because he was being blamed for the boy's sleeping habits. Then it occured to him that he had taken care of him. "How long have I been unconcious?"

Two fingures rose up from Alfred's hand.

"Two days?"

Again, the American nodded.

The silence from the boy was starting to concern Arthur. He knew that he wasn't mute, because he had heard the boy make certain noises, but no words escaped his lips.

"Alfred," Arthur began, and the boy turned to look at him. "Why won't you talk?"

Eyes grew wide and a tear rolled down his cheek. Turning around quickly, he wiped the drop from his face and tried to calm himself, but to no avail.

Arthur was thrown off as sobs came from the boy. Unsure of what to do, he attempted to comfort him. He reached out his hand and laid it on the small American's back, causing him to jump at the motion, and quickly move away from the touch. It was clear that he didn't fully trust the Briton still.

The Englishman pulled his hand back. He didn't mean to scare the boy. "I'm sorry."

Alfred wiped his eyes and looked back at Arthur. He looked at the Brit with apologetic eyes. Apologizing for his untrusting actions and his inability, or unwillingness, to speak.

"Hey, it's ok," Arthur didn't know how to comfort the boy except through words.

A fresh wave of tears poured from Alfred's eyes. He ran to the Briton and threw his arms around the older man's waist, letting himself cry into his chest.

Arthur wasn't sure what just happened. One second, the boy was trying to get away from him and the next, he was hugging him.

It was then that he realized that, while Alfred might've been untrusting, he also needed someone who he could count on. He was just given his full trust and Arthur had no intention of breaking that trust. He would protect the boy from now on.

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Someone wanted to know if there was going to be any romance between Arthur and Alfred. No there is not going to be any romance, it is more of a father/son relationship that slowly developes. 


	3. Hurt

Chapter 3: Hurt

Arthur and Alfred had grow close over the past few weeks, but the boy would still not talk. The Brit was starting to wonder if there was some psychological damage and if it could be healed. Many times he would try to ask the boy if he could tell, or even write why he wouldn't, or couldn't, talk. Everytime, however, Alfred would break down into tears.

Eventually, the Brit learn to avoid the subject all together and they went on living together. Arthur had decided, when he met Alfred, that he would stay with him. He wasn't going back to being a soldier.

By now the two wounds he had, were almost completely healed and his arm no longer need to be in a sling. Alfred began to bring him hunting and they caught almost three times as much as the boy could alone.

"Alfred, over here," Arthur whispered.

When the boy made it over to the Brit, he was shown a deer grazing a few meters away. Alfred got his bow ready and aimed it at the unsuspecting animal. With a quick and silent release, the arrow struck it's target. Arthur was impressed.

They took the deer back to their small camp and lit a fire. After cooking the meat, they ate while Arthur told Alfred some stories. When they were done they decided it was time to leave this place and relocate. They never stayed in the same place for more than a few days, so they were constantly on the move.

After everything was packed they set out, deciding to move about half a mile. They never had to move far, just far enough to keep from becoming too comfortable. Once they found a nice clearing they set up their tent and sat down to rest.

"Alfred."

The American looked at Arthur.

"We've been together for almost four weeks now. I know I shouldn't, but in order to understand better..." Arthur wasn't sure how to say it. He was going to ask Alfred why he wouldn't talk, again. He probably shouldn't and would most likely only get a crying child for an answer, but he wanted to know. "Why won't you speak to me?"

Alfred looked to the ground and clenched his shaking hands. He stood quickly and ran off into the woods.

"Alfred! Wait, stop!" Arthur yelled after him. He slapped himself in the face. "Stupid!"

The Brit charged into the trees, trying to find the little boy, who he was starting to see as a son.

"Alfred, please! I'm sorry..." Arthur choked back some tears that threatened to break through. "Why can't I keep my mouth shut?"

He hoped with all his might that he found the little American.

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After Alfred bolted into the trees he kept on running, not looking back. Tears poured down his cheeks. 'Why can't that stupid Brit stop asking me that question?' Alfred thought.

He wanted to tell the man why he wouldn't talk, but for some reason, everytime he tried, his voice would never work. He could make certain noises, but not voluntarily. Not only that, but it was a painful thing to think about. Tears continued to stream down his face.

The blur that his tears created made it hard to see where he was going. Before he knew it, he tripped over a root and fell down a steep hill. As he tumbled, he tried to stop himself, but found nothing to stop his decent.

He landed harshly on his back, getting the air knocked out of his lungs. He couldn't draw any breath. It felt as though he were suffocating. Finally, he inhaled a shaky breath. Sitting up, he tried to see where he was. A sharp pain shot through his leg. A scream ripped through the air.

Alfred grabbed his ankle and found it at an odd angle. It was either broken or dislocated. He couldn't stand, and if Arthur was chasing him, then he probably wouldn't find him a few hours if not more. If he wasn't looking for him, thinking that Alfred would get tired and return... The boy trembled at the thought. He was in such tremendous pain that he hoped Arthur would find him soon. Fresh tears broke through and he tried to stop them. This was no time to break down, he reasoned.

Leaning against a tree Alfred attempted to rest, but found it difficult. 'Please, hurry Arthur." The boy buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

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Okay I know this is a little short, but please don't hurt me. I just came out of a writers block for this story so don't be too hard on me. Don't forget to review~! 


	4. Found

Chapter 4: Found

Arthur had been searching for almost an hour and still, he could not find Alfred. By now, he was getting concerned. It was getting dark and was becoming hard to see much of anything. He was growing more nervous every second. Soon he wouldn't be able to see at all and he would have to stop for the night. 'But what if he's hurt?' He thought.

He was just about to double back and search in some other area when he spotted a path of broken twigs and smashed plants down a hill. His heart began to beat faster and he began his decent down the hill. He had to be careful. Not only was the hill steep, but it was also slippery. When he got to the bottom he took a look around, but he didn't spot the American. He was close to panicking when he heard a groan behind him. Turning quickly he saw Alfred leaning against a tree and unconsious.

A wave of relief shot through the Brit, but then he remembered that he must be hurt. Going over to the child he shook him awake.

"Alfred, wake up."

Alfred slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Arthur. It must've clicked who he was looking at because his eyes filled with tears and he threw his arms around the Briton.

"Shh, Alfred, it's okay." Arthur began to pick up the boy, when he screamed. Placing him back down, he was afraid he did something wrong. "Alfred, what's wrong?"

Alfred grabbed his ankle in pain. Peeling away the boy's fingers, Arthur took a look at it. What he saw was not what he was expecting. It was bent at a weird angle, and when he lifted the ends of the pants up he found that his ankle was swollen and bruised. Carefully he lifted the foot and twisted it slightly, receiving a cringe from Alfred.

"Alfred, I need to place your ankle back in place. It's dislocated, okay."

Not knowing what the Brit was talking about, Alfred nodded his head in mock understanding. Arthur gripped the boys foot and his leg readying himself. With a flick of the wrist, the foot popped back into place. Alfred screamed in pain and Arthur pulled him into a hug.

"Shh, I know it hurt, Alfred, but now it's all better."

After a couple of minutes, Alfred was reduced to silent tears. The Brit picked him up again and carried him back to their camp. On the way their, he felt Alfred shivering. Realizing that it wasn't a warm night, he pulled the American closer to him and went faster. Once back at the camp, he started a fire and laid the boy next to it, covering him with blankets. Finally he was able to sit down as well and once he did, he became aware of how tired he was. He laid down next to Alfred and soon gave into sleep as well.

The next morning Alfred woke up and tried to remember what had happened last night. He attempted to sit up, but found that he was being weighed down. Moving his arms to find out what the oject was, he found that it was an arm. He pushed the arm off of him and stood, almost immediatly falling back to the ground in pain. It was then that he remembered that he had hurt his ankle. He also remembered Arthur finding him and taking him back to the camp. He looked to the side and saw Arthur laying next to him, still sleeping.

He began to shake the man in an attempt to wake him, finding it difficult. Finally he was able to rouse him.

"Hmm, Alfred, is everything alright?" Arthur said concernedly.

Alfred nodded his head.

"How's your ankle?"

The boy lifted the leg to his pants to reveal a still bruised ankle, but it wasn't as swollen. That was good.

"Can you stand?"

Alfred shook his head.

"Okay, well then you stay here and I'll make us some breakfast." Arthur stood and made his way over to the bag holding the left over meat from the deer they hunted yesterday. Bringing it back to the smoldering flames, he set it aside so he could get the fire going again. Once it was going again, he cooked the meat and served it.

"Alfred, I'm sorry about yesterday."

Alfred nodded, letting him know that he wasn't being ignored and that he had been forgiven.

Arthur smiled and turned back to his meal.

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Yes I know this chapter is short, but just bare with me. Anyway, don't forget to review~! 


	5. Truth

Chapter 5: Truth

"Alfred!" Arthur woke with a start. He just had a horrible dream. In it Arthur was in a small group of British soldiers that broke into a house and shot a man and a woman. There was a small boy, that looked strangely like Alfred, who cowered in a corner, crying. The troop leader was about to shoot the boy as well, but Arthur had stopped the man in just enough time. He convinced him that there was no reason to kill him, that he was just a boy. However, this wasn't just a dream. Arthur really had been in that situation, but he wasn't sure if the boy was Alfred. If it was, then that could explain why he wouldn't talk.

Arthur shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked over at Alfred, who was sleeping peacefully. It had been a week since Alfred had dislocated his ankle, and was told by Arthur to stay in bed for a while until it healed. The Brit smiled at how the boy reacted when he heard that. He gave a big pout and crossed his arms in anger. Arthur wasn't sure if the boy was really angry or if it was just to show that he did not approve of being stuck in one place.

Getting up, the man stepped outside of their tent and looked around. Dawn was slowly approaching. He was honestly surprised that he had woken up this early. His hand slid through his hair as he let out a sigh.

"What am I doing?" He asked himself. "Did I plan on living with this boy in the wilderness forever?"

He stood there in silence for a while until he felt a small hand grasp his. Looking down, he saw Alfred yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Alfred, why are you up? I told you not to walk."

Alfred didn't respond, he just continued to stand there. The Brit turned and lifted the boy, taking him back to bed. He was very light and petit despite his age and living in the woods for two years. Arthur laid him down in bed and the boy fell asleep again in a matter of minutes. Soon, the man realized that he was still tired as well, so he laid down as well and fell asleep.

When they woke again, it was almost midday. Alfred got up before Arthur could make him lay back down and ran out of the tent. Arthur sighed in annoyance and crawled out of the tent.

"Alfred, you know better than to..." Arthur was cut off by another voice.

"Arthur? What are you doing here? Especially with this brat."

The Brit looked up to see who the voice belonged to and saw William, the man who he had tried to save on the battlefield, holding Alfred by his hair. A small grunt of pain came from the boy's lips and he tried to twist out of the man's grasp only to have it tighten. Alfred gasped as tears began to roll down his face.

"William? L-Let him go!" Arthur was both surprised and angry.

The other Briton complied, releasing the boy. Alfred fell to the ground holding his hands to his head. He remained there, continuing to cry.

"Alfred, come here," Arthur said calmly.

The small boy looked up and stood, walking over to his friend. A slight limp was noticed and Arthur figured that he hurt it again while trying to get away from William.

"He kind of looks like the kid that you stopped from being killed." William stared Arthur down and continued. "Remember that kid, the one who's parents that Liam killed?"

Arthur stiffened and his eyes shifted to Alfred who looked at him with questioning eyes. A look of realization slowly came over his small face as he recognized Arthur from that time. He pulled his hand away so fast that it felt as though he took half of Arthur's heart with him.

"Alfred, please. I tried to stop them. I didn't mean for..." Before he could finish, Alfred had taken off and disappeared through the trees. "Alfred!"

"Looks like when it comes down to it, he just can't trust you." William chuckled.

"Shut up! I'll kill you!" Arthur lunged at William, not caring how he had found them, or why he was alive. It turns out that after Arthur was helped by Alfred, a group of British soldiers passed by and found a few survivors, William being one of them. They found that Arthur was missing from the soldier's bodies that they found, so they figured that he was still alive. William volunteered to find him and now he had.

William pulled out his gun before Arthur could grab him.

"Just stay right where you are." William aimed at Arthur chest, his finger fiddling with the trigger, ready to fire if he needed to. "Now, come quietly and hopefully you won't get too harsh of a punishment."

"What happened, William? I thought we were friends."

"Well this is what happens when you desert your post."

"I never wanted to join the army! You didn't either, but they forced us into it! Did they finally brainwash you?"

"They didn't brainwash me, I just know my place!"

Arthur gave up. There was no way he could reach William, instead, he readied himself to tackle the man when he wasn't paying attention.

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Alfred ran as far as he could before his foot gave out and he fell to the ground in pain. The swelling that had gone down completely was now back up and causing the boy immense pain. He broke down and began to cry, thinking about how he had been betrayed by the closest person in his life. However, he remembered the hurt that he saw in Arthur's eyes when he pulled away from him. Alfred didn't know what to do. Maybe Arthur really had tried to save his parents. He remembered hearing a man yelling for the others to stop, but they didn't listen. Maybe that was Arthur.

Slowly, he stood testing his ankle then turned around, trying to find Arthur. He hoped that he wasn't too late. Coming to the clearing he found that they were still there, but something was different. Not only did the other man now hold a gun, but he also had a devious look in his eye that told Alfred that he was probably going to shoot. He tried to think of what to do, and he had to do it fast. Finally, without thinking, he stepped out of the bushes and yelled, "Arthur!"

Both of the Brits were surprised at the sudden sound and both turned. William's finger squeezed the trigger in fear and a loud bang signalled the release of the bullet. It zoomed past Arthur and lodge itself into Alfred's chest. Pain erupted from the wound and the boy was left gasping. The last thing he heard before passing out was Arthur calling his name.

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Don't hurt me please... I know I'm a horrible person but it's not my fault! (It really is) Anyway, don't forget to review~!


	6. Lifeline

Chapter 6: Lifeline

Silence enveloped the two Brits after Alfred ran off. Arthur stared at his former friend, deciding on the best and easiest way to kill him. Or, at least hurt him enough to where he could not follow. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to still his movements until the right moment.

"So what now?" Arthur asked, trying to stall.

"Now you come with me," stated William in a matter of factly tone. "Let's not make this more difficult than it has to be."

"No, let's." Arthur was about to jump forward when a voice stopped him.

"Arthur!"

The named Brit turned at the sound of his name and saw Alfred running towards. Wait! Alfred had just spoken! Arthur was about to run to the boy when a shot was heard right behind him. He cringed, waiting for his end, but it never came. Instead, the bullet hit Alfred's chest and the boy crumpled to the ground.

"Alfred!" The Briton yelled in shock, his voice cracking. Turning around, Arthur made his fury known to William. Fury that the man had never seen before in all their years being friends. It scared him. "Y-You killed him!"

William dropped the gun, shocked that he had shot a child. "I didn't mean to."

Tears began to poor out of the blonde's eyes. "He was like a son to me! A son that I would never be able to have back in England. Now you took him away from me!" The furious Brit tackled William to the ground, his fingers curling around the man's neck and squeezing. He began to cough and sputter in an attempt to draw breath, but only caused Arthur to squeeze harder. "You bloody arse! I'll kill you!"

The Brit began to tremble and his hands loosened their grip on the other's neck as he broke down and cried. William took his chance and shoved the blonde off him. He stood and ran off, away from the murderous man that he once called friend. Arthur sat there on the ground sobbing into his hands trying to pull himself together. A small shaky breath brought him back to reality.

"Alfred?" The Brit cupped the back of the small boy's head and listened for the quiet sound again. "Come on, breathe for me."

Another breath passed the boy's lips and Arthur nearly dropped the boy in surprise.

"Alfred! You're alive!" Immediately Arthur's hands pressed over the wound and tried to stop the bleeding. "Wake up, please. Show me your eyes."

The boy responded by showing a sliver of his blue eyes. A cough erupted from him, shaking his small body. After it stopped his eyes flew open and short, shallow breaths passed through his lips. Tears began to fall from his eyes as the pain became too much for him.

"Shh, I need you to calm down. I'm trying to help you." Arthur tried to remain calm, but the trembling in his voice gave him away. Alfred, however, did his best to comply and deepened his breathing in and attempt to calm himself. Arthur slid his hand under the boy's back and carefully sat him up so he could see if the bullet passed through or if it was still lodged within. Another hole presented itself and the Brit let out the breath he was holding and sighed in relief. He also noticed that the blood flow had slowed down considerably and only needed to be wrapped. He was ever so grateful that the bullet had not hit his lung. If it had, then the boy would probably not survive.

He scooped up the boy and brought him back to the tent to bandage the injury. Immediately after the danger had passed, the Briton began to pack everything they would need. William was alive and most likely bringing reinforcements. He didn't want to be here when he came back. Once everything was ready, he slung the pack over his back and lifted Alfred in his arms. He ran as fast as he could without bouncing the small boy too much.

"Alfred can you hear me?" Arthur asked concernedly.

"Mmm.." Came the small response.

Arthur's heart nearly stopped when he heard the boy make noise again. They sounded as though he were voluntarily making the noises. He didn't want to push the boy too much, but he wanted to see if the boy had completely pushed past his mutism. "Alfred, I need you to say something."

"Than' y'," Alfred slurred. His voice hadn't been used for a good two or more years, but Arthur understood him well enough.

Tears welled up in the Brit's eyes. "You're welcome. Rest now. I'm looking for a place for us to stay."

"M'kay. Ah luv y', Arthur." Alfred's eyes slipped closed as he attempted to sleep.

"I love you too." Arthur place a quick, gentle kiss on the boy's head and continued running. He was surprised that when he said the name Arthur, he had no trouble, but with other words, he slurred. It gave him a sense of pride to know this. After a solid ten minutes of running, the Brit slowed to a walk, breathing heavily at the exersion. He continued to walk for what seemed like hours, but he had to make sure that he was far enough away from their previous camp. Finally he stopped at a small clearing and laid Alfred in the grass while he set up.

A groan interupted him and he looked over where Alfred was laying. The boy tried to sit up but gasped as pain shot through his chest. Strong hands pushed him back into a laying position.

"Alfred, you're injured. You could reopen you wounds."

" 'm s'rry," Alfred said slowly, still getting used to talking.

"You've nothing to be sorry about. Now rest." Arthur went back to putting up the small tent and turned back to Alfred. He picked him up and laid him inside, cuddling up next to him to make sure he stayed warm. He certainly didn't want the small boy to catch a cold while recovering from being shot. That could turn bad. The two slept peacefully until the sun began to rise. Arthur sat up and looked down at Alfred who was still asleep, but in obvious pain.

The Brit crawled out of the tent and went to look for that plant that Alfred had shown him. The leaves of the plant could numb pain as the boy had proven. After a few minutes of searching, he found it in the shade of a tree. Quickly, he stripped as many leaves as he could from the bush and ran back to Alfred. He shredded and squashed the leaved until it was a pulpy liquid. After that was finished, he moved to Alfred and undid the bandages wrapped around him, recieving cries of pain and whimpers.

Once everything was ready, the Briton lifted the boy and applied the leaf juice to his injuries, and laid him back down. When he was done, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that the wounds didn't reopen. By now, Alfred was awake and staring at him, eye a little wet from crying about the pain.

" 'm h'ngry." Alfred said, trying to be careful about the way he pronounced his words.

Arthur smiled. "I'll go cook the rest of the meat."

Alfred nodded and closed his eyes, deciding to rest until the food was ready. Thirty minutes later, Arthur woke him and helped him to a sitting position so he could eat. A few times while swallowing, the boy gave a pained expression when the act made his chest hurt. His hand reached for the wound and pressed on it lightly.

"H'rts," Alfred said, eyes cast downwards.

"I know." Arthur pulled him into a hug, being careful of where he touched. "You just need to rest and it will heal fine."

Alfred hummed in response and smiled, leaning against the older man in an attempt to sleep some more. Arthur smiled and began to sing softly until he heard soft snoring come from the boy. His smile widened at this, and he laid the boy down, leaving him to rest while he went out and tended to other things. It was only a few hours before noon, and he still had some things to do.

After crawling from the tent, he inhaled deeply. He decided that he would spend the rest of his life with Alfred. The boy needed him, not the British army.

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So yeah the next chapter is up!... I really have no clue how to continue this story, so if you could give me some idea's, I would be forever grateful and I would give you credit. Anyway, don't forget to review~!


	7. Emergency

Chapter 7: Emergency

Arthur was busy tending to the things that he mindlessly stuffed into the pack yesterday, while they were in a hurry to get away. Organization is always key is what he always told himself. A small coughing noise made him look up and star at the tent. After a few moments of silence, the Brit looked back down at the task at hand and continued working. He shoved his hand to the very bottom of the pack, searching for something important, when another cough came from the tent.

Concern welled up in the Englishman's stomach. Dropping what he was doing, he walked over to the entrance and lifted the flap. What he thought he would find is not what he found. He thought Alfred would be sleeping peacefully, simply coughing because of the pain in his chest, but instead, he saw Alfred drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. The Brit's eyes widened and he immediatly tried to shake the boy awake, but to no avail. Panic slowly envoloped him, causing him to nearly hyperventilate. However, he caught himself, and lifted the boy into his arms. After laying him outside the tent, he pack everything back in the pack and scooped the boy back in his arms, running to try and find a town, any town, that could help him. The Brit wasn't sure what was wrong, but he didn't want to wait and find out when it was too late.

He ran faster than he ever thought possible, his feet sliding on the ground slightly whenever he made a small deviation in order to dodge trees and bushes that were in his way. As he did, he kept praying that Alfred would wake up and talk to him again. Show that he was okay and he would not die, but no matter how hard he prayed, the boy wouldn't wake.

As he side began to ache from running so hard, he didn't even think of slowing. Even as his breath came out short and shallow, the thought did n't not cross his mind. The only thing firmly lodge there was the fact the the boy could possibly be dying and he needed an actual doctor. Finally, after searching for... he wasn't even sure, and nor did he even care... he saw buildings peek through the trees and before he knew it, he was running through the streets, probably looking like a mad man.

"I need a doctor, someone! Please help me!"

The people, walking the streets would ussually have freaked out at the fact that a Brit was running through their streets, but they saw him carrying somethign in his arms and calling for help. They didn't question, but instead, someone lead him to the local doctor. They burst through the door and startled the man inside.

"What iz zis?" Said the man with a French accent.

"My boy needs help! He's been shot. I tried to bandage the wound, but when I went to go check on him, he was sweating heavily and wouldn't respond to me."

The Frenchman nodded and motioned for him to lay the boy on one of the numerous beds lining the walls. Arthur did as instructed and no sooner had he done so had the Frenchman started working on him. Noticing that the Brit was still standing there, the doctor stood and turned to him.

" 'e iz in good 'ands, I can assure you. Why don't you go out and get some fresh air? You look like you could use some."

Arthur did not want to leave Alfred, but he knew that the Frenchman was right. He needed some time alone and some fresh air to clear his head. He stepped outside and inhaled deeply, trying to keep the tears that threatened to show themselves from surfacing. A few villagers took one look at him and immediately ran in the opposite direction. They knew he was British and they didn't want to be around him any longer than needed. The Brit sighed and walked around ignoring the stares.

After a while of walking, he came across an alley way and something caught his eye. A small lump on the ground that rose and fell, as though it were breathing, was just laying there. Arthur slowly approached and called out.

"Hello? Are you hurt?"

The lump made no move or sound. It simply continued to rise and fall. Cautiously, the Brit reached out and uncovered it's face and found it to be a small boy, maybe a little younger than Alfred. He had the same shade of golden blonde hair, except this boy's was longer. He appeared to be sleeping. His eyes were closed and his breaths were deep. Carefully, Arthur shook the boy until his eyes opened.

The boy groaned in response and he turned to look at the person who woke him. When he saw the man, his eyes widened in fear and he scrambled into the far corner of the alley. His breathing quickened and he tried to mentally calm himself.

"Shh, I'm not going to hurt you. I was just trying to wake you. Sleeping in a place like this isn't safe." Arthur tried reasoning with him.

The boy didn't seem comforted by the words, because he just continued to star at him, wide eyed and afraid.

Arthur sighed. "What's you name?"

Thinking for a moment as to whether or not he should answer, he spoke. "M-Matthew."

"Well Matthew, do you have any parents?"

He shook his head violently.

"You're an orphan? Well I have a little boy being cared for by the doctor right now. He lost his parents too. Would you like to meet him?"

Matthew stood there for a moment, then slowly stepped forward and grabbed Arthur's hand. The Brit smiled and lead him back to the small building that the doctor worked in. The walked in silence for a little while until the boy spoke with his small voice.

"What's his name?"

"Hmm? Oh, his name is Alfred. He's just a little older than you, I should say."

"Is he nice?"

"Yes, very much so. I think you two would get along well."

A small smile seemed to stretch across Matthew's face as he hugged a stuffed bear to his chest. Arthur found it odd that he had only just noticed the stuffed toy, but he shrugged and continued. Soon they stood in front of the town doctor's door and they both walked in.

"Oi! What do you s'ink you are doing in 'ere?" The doctor strode quickly towards them. "You are not allowed in 'ere!"

It took Arthur a moment to realize that he was talking about the boy holding his hand.

"Why can't he be in here?" Arthur asked, confused.

" 'e always comes in and sleeps on one of zee beds. Zey are not for 'omeless children. Zey are for patients!" The Frenchman glowered at Matthew, who was currently hiding behind Arthur.

"Now see here..." Arthur began but was cut off a small whimper across the room. "Alfred!"

The Brit knelt beside the bed and took Alfred's hand into his.

" 'e will be fine. The reason for 'is sweating and unresponsiveness iz because 'is wound was becoming infected. I took care of zat. 'e will need to stay 'ere for a few days but after zat 'e can leave."

"Thank you..." Arthur whispered.

"It iz no problem. My name iz Francis." Francis turned around and faced the other boy still standing at the doorway. "And you, why 'ave you not disappeared back into zee streets?"

"Wait!" Arthur stood from the bed side. "He's with me."

Francis eyed him suspisiously then turned back to Matthew and motioned for him to go to the Brit. Not waiting for the doctor to change his mind, he ran past him and threw his arms around the Englishman's waste. Arthur smiled at him and squated so he was eye level with him.

"Welcome to the family."

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Yay! Another addition to the Kirkland family! Anyway the continuation idea was from RubberChi~! Thank you! Anyway, don't forget to review~!


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